A year ago today, hundreds of people tragically lost their eyesight as a result seeing me in a red thong for my role in “The Nedinator,” a 6-minute movie spoof that premiered in our local theater the same night as “The Terminator: Genysis.”
The movie was heralded by critics as “Ned’s best 6-minute performance.”
And my wife agrees.
For anyone who started following this blog after June last year, and who has wondered why there are so many references in the comments section about my red thong, rest assured you haven’t stumbled into a hive a kinky people. This is where it started. And, thanks to a court order siting “codes of human decency,” also where it ended.
The story behind the mini-movie is a long one, and is just as drama-filled as any Hollywood production — except with less silicone, money, sex, tantrums, Perrier, etc.
So, to celebrate the one-year anniversary…
Actually, “celebrate” might be a bit strong. How about “commemorate?” Like when there’s a tragedy? Continue reading The “Nedinator” special anniversary edition no one asked for
A year ago next Wednesday, the infamous “Terminator” spoof “The Nedinator” shocked the world! Or at least those who came to the premier at our local movie theater and witnessed me in a red thong on the big screen for 17 seconds.
Fortunately for everyone, we didn’t have the budget to make it in 3D.
To mark the anniversary, I’m putting together a Special Boxed Set Edition (at least in blogging terms) for next week.
In the meantime, this post from a year ago today explains how and why it all got started, just as I explained it to James Cameron’s lawyers… Continue reading A year ago today: Officially the strangest 15 minutes of my life
Over the years, my editor has offered to send me to many places. Usually in a raised voice. And often to a destination that is physically impossible for anyone who isn’t a skilled contortionist.
However, maybe it’s because of the unusually good weather we’re having in Oregon (not raining), or that she’s going on vacation soon, or possibly because there’s been another mix-up between her blood-pressure medicine and someone else’s painkillers.
Whatever the reason, she has given me the “thumbs up” to visit Watsonville, Calif., this week. Naturally, this was exciting news! At least once I got over the creepiness of her actually giving me a “thumbs up” sign. Continue reading Warning to Watsonville: This week, I’ll be eating all your fruit
I have a file full of rejection notes and letters from editors and publishing houses. Many are for my column when I was first starting out.
Others are in response to a murder mystery I wrote back in the late 1990s.
And one is from Miss October 1978.
In spite of the negative connotation a rejection letter conjures up in the mind of most authors — fine, every author — don’t overlook the more important aspects of what it represents.
To begin with, it means you’ve completed a written work. Given a choice between writing a 500-word essay or being tased in the buttocks, the average person would rather drop their pants than pick up a pen. The fact that you aren’t rubbing a bruised rear means you are a writer (Depending on your genre, of course). No number of rejection letters changes that. Regardless of whether its a 400-page novel or an 800-word opinion piece, you have honed and polished your words to the point you are ready to send it out to the world, either in the form of sample chapters, a query or by pushing the “publish” button on your blog or website. Continue reading If you’re a writer without a rejection letter, you’re doing something wrong
(I’m a guest at Open Thought Vortex Magazine today, proposing the creation of a Presidential Aptitude Test for future elections. Unfortunately, it’s too late for this one…)
If I’m being honest, I have about as much enthusiasm for our choices in presidential candidates as I do for licking a 9-volt battery; I know the result won’t kill me but the anticipation itself is enough to make my tongue curl — because I know it’s still going to sting. As I’ve watched the process of elimination over the last several months, I can’t help but wonder how, with a population of more than 324 million, this is the best we have to offer? Maybe we forgot some people somewhere?
Like Rhode Island. It’s small and easy to overlook.
It also got me wondering why becoming a presidential nominee isn’t harder. Don’t get me wrong, I realize not just any millionaire can become a presidential candidate. But in a country where you have to pass a background check and psychological interview before landing a job at McDonald’s, you’d think we’d at least require the same of someone vying for a position as the Most Powerful Person in the World. It seems like we might even feel obligated to other nations to make sure the Commander-in-Chief of the planet’s most advanced military doesn’t have mommy or daddy issues, an axe to grind, isn’t a power tripper and has a working knowledge of international affairs that extends beyond Fox News. (Read more at OTV Magazine)
I am a father with three teens. As a result, if a priest were to visit my home and witness the amount of eye rolling that occurs, he would schedule an exorcism faster than you can say “The Conjuring.”
I realize this is a teen thing, and that it’s not easy going through physical and emotional changes generally reserved for a full moon. I understand how the Molotov cocktail of hormones created during this time makes everything annoying, particularly when I say something insensitive such as, “Hi.”
However, come Father’s Day, I will remind my them about the recently discovered 11th Commandment, in which God said unto the teenagers of the world: “Thou shalt not eye roll thine parents. Tis truly annoying.”
They will immediately Google it and discover I’m making up this Commandment, at which point the whites of their eyes will begin that slow, exaggerated roll they know drives me nuts… and then they’ll remember:
Oh no, It’s Father’s Day. Continue reading There shall be no eye rolling on Father’s Day
I am incredibly saddened by the news this morning about the deadliest mass shooting in our nation’s history, spurred by an act of hatred against a group of people targeted for their choice in living life. Not only because of the lives lost in Orlando, but the atmosphere of hatred that is continuing to grow in our country. A nation that was founded on equality and the right to pursue life, liberty and happiness is falling victim to the notion that hate is a solution. This morning, along with the innocent lives lost in Orlando, I also mourn the loss of tolerance and acceptance. We reserve the right as Americans to disagree with others. We have the right NOT to support the lifestyle or religious choices others make. You can be anti gay, anti Muslim, Republican or Democrat, liberal or conservative, Ford or Chevy. But if we allow hatred to sway us into believing we have the right to not only deny those same rights to others, but to kill them for it, we will have lost everything.
Don’t let hate win. Or we all lose.
Being a humor columnist, I am often asked:
“Where do you get this stuff?”
“How did you even think of that?”
“Do you just make this [censored] up?
“Isn’t marijuana legal in Oregon?”
The answer to all of those questions is a definitive “Yes,” particularly on Ballot Measure 5. However, each of the first three include an important addendum that reads as follows:
“While the consumption of humor shall be made available to everyone regardless of race, color, creed or whatever they happen to be eating that may unintentionally exit a nostril, the distributor of said humor is required to provide a basic standard of truthfulness, therefore guaranteeing consumers a more pure grade of laughter. At least until they try passing mixed-berry yogurt through their nose…”
If we cut through all that legal jargon prepared by snooty lawyers making seven-figure salaries somewhere in the back of my mind, there is a point: Elements of truth play an important part in all forms of good fiction.
There is also a secondary point, which is that I will probably never get a Dannon Yogurt endorsement. Continue reading Even when writing fiction, honesty is the best policy
I almost titled this post “Beauty and the Best” because, let’s face it: humorist Ross Murray is certainly one of the best in the blogosphere. And considering I’m fresh from being named “Sexiest Male Blogger,” that would make me…
*waits for readers to finish process of elimination*
No need to rush, I’ll wait…
*whistles Dixie until lips get dry*
Never mind. It’s not important. The important thing is that each of us has been nominated for Funniest Blogger by London’s ABBA, a collective of blogger’s from around the world who are meeting in London this weekend for a huge convention that neither Ross or I can attend because, as I told Ross, “there’s no way I’m driving to London.” Continue reading No matter who you choose, everyone wins
Before reading this, please take a good look at this video…
Yep, that’s me. Apparently, this is the new sexy.
Sorry about that.
For those of you who have been following me in the “Who Is the Sexiest Number” competition at The Public Blogger, after 100 men and six rounds of competition, I officially struck a major blow to sexiness everywhere by winning the finals Monday. This morning, the United Nations called an emergency session to discuss the ramifications.
“It’s like making contact with an alien race,” said a U.N. spokesman. “We are now faced with questioning everything we thought we knew about ourselves and our universe as humans.”
In Rome, Pope Francis met with cardinals from around the globe as thousands of panicked worshippers gathered at Vatican Square in silent prayer. “Do not be fearful,” the Pontiff assured the masses. “God has not abandoned us.” Continue reading I won the sexy contest and, naturally, people are scared